favorite this post10 Reasons I Should Be Single/Celibatehide this posting
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1. Sex. what's the big deal? You like it, I like it. What we have here is a mutual trading of wants, some of that for some of this. Which, by the way, I'm told I'm quite good at. Is it because now that I want it you don't? I'm confused, didn't you used to like sex? I thought you did, and believe me, my libido hasn't diminished one ounce since I was 14. I'm tired of masturbating when you're around, what's the point? Sometimes you(I) just need to fuck.

2. Screaming kids. Hell no.

3. In-laws. Hell no. I barely tolerate my family.

4. My Body. Every married couple I know has become a chubby representation of themselves. Where is the skinny person I knew? I'm sure they're in there somewhere. My chances of not becoming a fatass plummet drastically when I get involved. I like working out, but when sitting on the couch cuddling becomes an activity, the gym forgets I even exist (or vice versa). Where has my waist gone?

5. My Brain. I was interested in learning once upon a time, I really was. I derailed my chances at grad school for a girl, a lying deceitful girl, and never looked back on my education. How do you revert my cerebellum into the primordial ooze it was millions of years ago with your sexy walk or whispering whiskey voice? What is this hold you have over me?

6. My Time. I like my free time: I can play video games, ski, go running, make coffee, play with the cats, shape the bonsai trees, clean the bathroom (it totally needs it!), and any of the hundred other activities I do when not involved with someone. Where does the time go when we chat and joke, filling my day with useless banter while the sun progresses across the horizon? I want it back. Note: Time spent in bed (a.k.a. #1) is hereby referred to as happy time, and not deducted from my potential free time. I appreciate that time, I really do.

7. My money. It seems like $100 bills fly out of my pocket when I'm involved with you women. Where do they go? It used to be an easy trade, I would spend some money, then get some sex. Gone are the simple days of thinly veiled prostitution, where we get some food, have some drinks, then on to the fucking! Yes, I like the eating out as much as anyone, but our days and meeting up seem to revolve around food. Did I always eat this much? I remember when one good meal a day was sufficient. See #1 and & #4 for further clarification.

8. My friends. I used to have plenty of friends: ski buddies, drinking buddies, workout buddies, geek buddies, all around guy friends. Those have faded away over time, not really sure why, but I'll blame that on #1 too (Not my happy time, their happy time. Okay, sometimes my happy time too, like when I blow off my ski buddies to stay in bed with you). It's hard to make friends when you're older, mostly because they're a package deal: Ken and Trina, Neal and Heather, Mark and Stephanie. My friends aren't some amorphous blob that used to be two distinct individuals, but the changeling they've evolved into has only one thought process, as if they share one brain. I want my friend back! What possible wedge can I drive between them, since she is clearly providing #1? I have no weapon in my arsenal that comes close.

9. My Bad Habits. Heavy smoking, heavy drinking, copious amounts of drugs, pron, my slutty behavior, picking my nose, blah blah blah. You're tired of it all, I get it. Confronting me about it will only drive me to perform said behavior like a sneak-thief. Why do I feel guilty? No, I won't change, although I may slow down for the benefit of my liver. It told me the other day that he didn't sign up for this abuse, and he's moving on. He doesn't trust my random bouts of sobriety either.

10. My Sanity. Why oh why do I attempt to figure you out, damnable women? I'm sure in your brain that your behavior makes sense, but I bash my head in repeatedly attempting to figure you out. Please don't be cute and subtle, be direct. That's the only thing I understand, really, because underneath all of this, I'm just a big dumb animal.

I guess underneath it all, I am too concerned about the little (I shouldn't call him that) prick between my legs. He's gotten me into waaay too much trouble over the years. How does the lack of blood flow to my larger brain become disrupted? The only concilation is that once I ejaculate (from #1, not from a manual override), I come back to my senses for a good 20 minutes, so feel free to ask me questions during that period. I might even be honest.

Location: Salt Lake, a.k.a. My Hell

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